CourtShip
by Esme Incognito
Summary: In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella & Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.
1. Chapter 1

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/25/14**

* * *

**A/N**

Welcome to CourtShip, my second full-length story. If you're coming from The Fantasy Basket, thank you for taking a second ride through my version of the Twilight world. If you found this another way, I'm so glad you found this story! Please leave a note to let me know where you heard about it.

I may not be able to post chapters regularly for awhile. I have this story about half written, but that doesn't mean the first half! I've got the main Bella & Edward story (their journals) 80% written and just the very beginnings of the sub plot that will be woven in between—the girl who's reading the journals. I'll try to hurry! Knowing that you're all eagerly awaiting more will help motivate me.

I hope this short first chapter will give you a taste of what's to come and you'll be on alert when I make enough progress to post more.

I'd love to hear your first impression of CourtShip. Please post comments, suggestions, thoughts…

Thanks for reading. Please Enjoy!

Jen

PS: This is straight from me to you—no beta or pre-readers—so all errors are mine.

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Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella & Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

~ ~ \-0-0-0-/ ~ ~

**CHAPTER 1**

It had been a long day already, and it was only lunchtime. After four hours, eleven boxes, and three paper cuts I was only halfway through the bookshelves, removing the tomes from their neat, organized homes on the shelves and sorting them to their fates—keep, toss, sell, not sure…

I'd been instructed to leaf through each book, warned that their owner was apt to absentmindedly leave treasures among the pages. I found mostly unremarkable things: bookmarks, paperclips, advertising post cards and scraps of whatever lay nearby to mark the place she'd left off. But every so often, I came across something interesting. I found a twenty dollar bill and a couple of singles, several half-done to do lists in her loopy, messy cursive, theater tickets, an unused airline voucher for a free flight that expired twelve years ago—_bet she missed that_—and several photographs.

But the biggest treasure by far was in the notes. It was obvious which books were her favorites, for she'd signed and dated the inside cover upon each perusal. And the margins were filled with comments. Handwritten thoughts and memories triggered by the words she'd read. Those books were the hardest to sort.

How could I sell or give away something so personal, share these glimpses into her mind, her feelings, her soul with nameless readers at the library? With people haggling the price of this priceless piece of her down from 50 cents to a quarter? They didn't know her and would probably be annoyed by her musings in the margins. I wanted to get to know her better, to wrap my arms around her books and her words and never let them go. Never let _her_ go.

Sell.

Sell.

Sell.

Every so often, I'd find a volume she'd bequeathed to someone, scrawling a name and a personal note on the front page. Those were the easiest to part with, knowing they were going to a good home, that the recipients would appreciate her dedications. There were even a few she'd left to me. "Marie, I was a quiet girl like you. This book opened my eyes to a lot of new things in college. I hope it helps you someday, too."

Keep. Definitely keep.

I moved on to the bookshelf in the corner and my task became exponentially harder. A whole shelf of leather bound journals, identical but for the dates printed on the spines in the neat block printing that must have been his were the first to strike me. I'd thought notes in the margins were personal, but journals? _Heaven help me_. The rest of that bookshelf—floor to ceiling—was filled with photo albums, scrapbooks, yearbooks, children's art portfolios… memories in every size and shape.

I sat back on my heels, looking around me for help that I knew was not forthcoming, and wondered what to do with them. I wasn't qualified for this. Why couldn't I have been assigned to, say, the dining room? Or the garage?

I puffed out my cheeks and blew out a long breath, deciding that it was time to take a break and go eat lunch, when something on the shelf caught my eye. Instead of being neatly lined up with its brothers, one of the leather bound journals was out of place on a shelf with the photo albums. Upon closer inspection, I found that it was tied together with a large square scrapbook, giftwrap style—a wide blue ribbon holding the mismatched volumes together, criss-cross— tied in a neat bow right in the center. I took them down and loosened the bond, noting the gold-printed words inked on the journal's black cover with neat precision:

_Journal_

_Nanny & Pops' 50__th__ Anniversary Cruise_

_July 2014_

My eyes widened at the date as I set the book aside and turned to it's partner. _That's an old one_.

The scrapbook must have been from the same cruise, it's cover adorned with a graphic of a large, white ship sailing toward the horizon, embossed with her name across the bow—the _Eclipse_.

I opened the cover and flipped through the large, plastic-encased pages, noticing that someone had unscrewed the posts that bound the book together and interspersed several smaller pages among the large scrapbook-sized ones. The smaller plastic sheaths contained lined pages torn from a spiral notebook. They were filled with the sloppy cursive I'd been reading all day—the writing of someone whose thoughts moved faster than her fingers could record them.

I read…

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

Her Scrapbook

**Day 1: All Aboard!**

I am so excited! Our graduation trip is finally here. Well, I've got another year of school, technically, thanks to my double major, but Jessica and Angela both graduated and I finished my fourth year, so…whatever!...we're here on the ship, en route to Mexico. Actually, I think we're already far enough south to be alongside Mexico, but we're in international waters so it doesn't count.

This is going to be so much better than our spring break trip to Ensenada last year! The fact that none of us could go somewhere together this past April for our very last spring break prompted this trip. Angela had to go home for her twin brothers' 18th birthday party and Jessica's internship wouldn't give her spring break off. (Especially since she didn't request the time off—she just assumed it would be a work holiday! Welcome to the real world, right?) I spent a super fun-filled week in the library, researching and outlining a couple of term papers. Yeah, that was _great_!

When my friends found out how I'd spent spring break, they insisted that we plan a graduation trip together—one last hurrah—and so, here we are aboard the Eclipse.

We met up in Long Beach yesterday and had fun catching up on what we've all been doing since school got out last month. Jessica was so cute. She got matching Cal t-shirts for us that say "Cruising 2014." We weren't the only ones with t-shirts. There was a group—it must have been a family reunion or something because there were at least 20 of them ranging in age from a baby to an elderly lady with one of those scooter things. Anyway, they all had matching blue shirts that said "50 Years - Cullen Crazy Cruisers."

While we waited in a horrendously long line to check in, Jessica was chattering on and on about what a jerk her boss was because he made her work late on Friday to finish some big project before she left on vacation. I kind of zoned out, which made me worry that my besties and I may already be drifting apart, only a few weeks after graduation. I really hope that my extra year of school doesn't cause me to lose touch with my friends whose lives are moving on.

As we made our way around and around the long queue, I was startled by a shriek that came from a girl in that group with the t-shirts. She's a tiny little thing, probably around thirteen, who had cut her t-shirt into this fancy, one-shouldered, fringed thing. She was really excited to see some new guy who joined their group, bouncing around and hugging him. I chuckled when he put his hands on her shoulders, kissed her forehead, and kind of nudged her away. Obviously, she caught a little too much of the Cullen Cruise Craziness, even for her own family member!

We moved forward in line and I got to talking with Angela about the Teach All America assignment she just got. I'm kind of worried about her. She's going to a sketchy area that has a really high crime rate to teach underprivileged kids for a year. She's very committed to doing it, though. She's always been such a kind and generous soul.

When we wound around to the outside edge of the queue again, I could see that the new t-shirt guy, who looked like he's around our age (and did I mention, really, really cute?) had been passed along through his whole big group, receiving hugs from every one of them. He was making faces at a tiny little boy in his arms and was talking animatedly with an older lady.

I watched them wistfully, wondering what it would be like to have a big, loving family like theirs. Three people. That's what I've got. I know my dad loves me, but he shows it in ways like painting my room or putting the snow chains on my truck when the weather's bad. My mom and Phil are great, but I hardly ever see them. So, I was watching this big, beautiful, demonstrative family, trying to make observations for future stories I may write.

Jessica noticed me staring and, crude as usual, broke me from my reverie by asking if I'd honed in on a "target" for this trip already. I told her that I was just wondering what it would be like to have a big family like that.

Jess, being Jess, gave a typically crass retort, saying that if I wanted a big family, I'd have to find somebody to make babies with first. She laughed at her own joke. I didn't. Oh my god, I can't believe her! Even with all these people surrounding us, she kept going on and on about it, her voice escalating.

At one point she yelled out, all excited, that her top priority for this cruise was to "find me a man." This old guy with a big beer gut, who was in line with his buddies, called out "I volunteer, baby!" and he totally checked me out. _Ugh_!

I could feel my face heat up as Angela put her arm around me and gave me a little half-hug. Then she basically told Jessica to shut the hell up. I love that Jessica helps pull me out of my shell, but sometimes, she just doesn't know when to stop.

We got to the ship, unpacked, and ate lunch at a fantastic buffet. Then we had to go through this ridiculous safety drill. Everyone on the ship had to go to a designated place down by the lifeboats and basically wait around in a huge crowd for everyone else to show up in the right place so they could demonstrate how to put on a life preserver.

We were all stuck there, three rows deep, and this lady who was already drunk (we'd only been on the boat for 2 hours!) was being obnoxious. "WTF is a muster station?" she shouted. "If the ship is sinking, I'm jumping in the first lifeboat I see. Why the hell would I go look for my muster station?" _Nice_!

Jessica was laughing at her. Angela was paying close attention to all the signs and the map of the ship.

Afterwards, as we waited for the clog of people to work their way through the narrow doorways and stairways and elevators, I watched people, observing how they act and what they say. Sometimes I make up stories in my head about random people that I notice.

The high point of the drill was that I saw that Cullen guy again. He's pretty tall, so I could see his head above the crowd. Gosh, he's cute. And in the natural light, I could see the unique color of his hair. It looks dark brown indoors, but outside I could see that it's actually kind of auburn-reddish with some lighter, almost golden, highlights. I know it's not right to call a boy pretty, but that's the best word to describe this guy's hair. I wish I had hair like that instead of boring brown.

Gotta go. We're headed to our sit-down dinner and then checking out the night life on the ship. It should be fun! (I just hope that Jessica doesn't spend the whole night trying to hook me up with random guys!)

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

A portrait of three girls about my age—the kind of picture that entertainment venues force you to pose for and then try to sell you for outrageous prices—adorned the facing page, the date: July 8, 2014.

Could that be her in the middle? Wow!

And that cute guy in the Cullen Crazies t-shirt must have been… Before they met… Oh my god. If the larger book was her journal and scrapbook, then the other one must be…

I grabbed for the black leather bound book and eagerly flipped open the front cover, turning past the cover page until I found the first entry.

Yes, it was… I read, anxious to read his side of the story.

"Ready for some lunch?" My partner in crime looked exhausted and glum. She was definitely in need of a break, a change of scenery. The journal would have to wait.

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**A/N**

Who do you suppose our book-sorting, journal-reading protagonist is? And who could the cute guy on the cruise be? Hmmm…

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2-Terminal

**CourtShip**

**By Esme Incognito**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 8/2/14**

Story Summary

In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began: a 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella & Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

**CHAPTER 2**

"…Yeah, Marie and I are just getting back to the house now." I pulled my car into the driveway as Mom argued into the phone. "We'll do as much as we can, but it's a big job."

"No, we're definitely not going to be able to finish today. Are you sure you can't come over after work?" She rolled her eyes and scowled at his response. "What's so important that you can't come and help? Why is this all falling upon… Oh. Ok."

I glanced over as her tone changed from irritation to resignation. "Is there any paperwork you need from their files here?"

We made our way to the front door and she chattered on, discussing details and decisions and other arrangements for the business at hand as I worked my way through each key on the ring. After three failed attempts, Mom reached out her free hand to take the keys from me, pinching the one that would grant us access between her thumb and finger, impatiently handing it back with the losers dangling, jangling.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, it struck me again, just as it had when we'd arrived that morning: Emptiness… It was the same house—yes—with the same furniture, the same decorations which I normally found to be comforting, homey; the same family photos adorning the walls; everything was the same.

But it wasn't. Nothing here would ever be the same. The day was bright, but there was no light, no life.

I turned to hang my coat in the closet near the front door, and my eyes were pulled immediately to the floor inside, looking for the bin. It wasn't there anymore, of course. It hadn't been for years. The large, lidded plastic bin had been moved to the shelf up above, still full of toys and books, but now out of the way until the next time a child came to visit when she would ask him sweetly to lift it down, thanking him with a kiss and a wink.

I'd delighted in playing with the things in the bin hundreds of times. It was an icon, etched in my childhood memory.

And that was my trigger. With that memory it hit me: the permanence, the loss. The toy bin wouldn't be there ever again. I'd never see children of my own digging to the bottom, seeking out a missing puzzle piece or the little plastic fireman who never could seem to stay in his place behind the wheel of the ladder truck.

Unless I decided to keep a few of those childhood toys, or anything in this house, to stash them away in my closet or under my bed, they'd be lost to me forever, preserved only in my memories. The fireman would swim among the debris at the bottom of another child's toybox, a child who had no knowledge of me or of the children a generation ahead of me who had all been careful not to lose him, to set him in his driver's seat before pushing the firetruck down the long hallway in this house, its bell clanging with each revolution of the wheels. Would the fireman stay with his truck? Or would he be separated, torn forever from his trusty "Ladder #57?"

Tears that had been prickling at my nose all day now spilled down my cheeks. With a gasp I reached a hand toward the door frame, needing something, anything to help keep me on my feet.

Mom quickly ended her phone call and wrapped me in her arms, holding me, rocking me, patting me on the back like the baby I'd once been to her until my sobs subsided.

And I understood. I got it. I knew then what had hit her.

When we'd arrived earlier that morning, entering through that same front door, we had smelled something sour, spoiled and followed our noses to the kitchen.

One moment, one glimpse toward the breakfast table was all it had taken for Mom to break down. Sobs wracked her body, wails like I'd never heard before passed her lips. I stood in shock, frozen momentarily at the sight before us until the sound of her collapsing to her knees next to me demanded my attention.

I helped her to the couch in the family room, grabbing a box of Kleenex along the way, and consoled her as best I could.

"Thank you, honey," she'd said when she was composed enough to speak. "I just need a few minutes." I nodded and gave her a kiss on the forehead, mothering her for a change, and left her to her thoughts and memories. Her grief.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself against the smell and the sight I knew would assault me just past the kitchen doorway. I braved into the room, eyes averted from the table, and quickly filled the kettle, setting it to warm on the stove next to an eggy frying pan before gathering the trash can from under the sink, along with a pair of rubber gloves I found there.

Steeling myself, I turned toward the breakfast table and slowly raised my eyes to it.

With a hitch in my breath, I quickly approached the tableau, anxious to remove all traces of it. Her breakfast of 9 days ago stood untouched, pristine as a still life but for the greying of the scrambled eggs. I quickly emptied the plate's contents into the trash can, depositing it and the full cup of ice cold coffee into the sink.

I then turned to the chaos that was his place: meal half eaten, coffee sloshed across the table, marring the cheerful embroidered tablecloth with an aggressive brown stain, chair pulled out haphazardly at an angle from which no one could eat, fork fully laden with egg on the floor, its once sunny soft yolk now a mess of congealed gunk.

Especially disturbing were the pill bottles she must have rushed across the room to retrieve in a desperate attempt to revive him from his sudden collapse. Aspirin tablets and some kind of smaller pills from an amber colored prescription bottle were scattered everywhere, spilled in her haste to open the darn childproof lids and get them to his mouth. If only they'd worked…

I shuddered, blinked back a new round of tears, and cleared away the evidence of his last moments before taking my mother some tea.

…

Tears dried; toy bins and dirty dishes shuttered from our sight, Mom and I returned to the stations we'd abandoned that morning and continued with our work. I transferred all of the scrapbooks and photo albums and journals to the "keep" pile—all but the pair of cruise journals, which I promised myself another peek into upon the sorting of one more bookshelf, the completion of one more goal. I needed something to lift my spirits on this grey day, after all the sadness and despair of the past week and a half.

The first entry in his journal brought a much-needed smile to my face:

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

**His Journal**

**Cullen Family Reunion 2014 – Celebrating Nanny & Pops' 50****th**** Wedding Anniversary **

**Aboard the Twilight Eclipse**

**July 8, 2014 - Tuesday**

I'm certainly glad I made it on time! I almost missed the cruise.

I was supposed to arrive yesterday with everyone else, but Dr. Snow, the advisor for my internship, called and asked if I could come in to observe a procedure. It's pretty rare, and he said it would probably be years before I had another chance to see this particular surgery live—if EVER as a student.

I called Carlisle and he agreed that it was a really good opportunity. There was an early flight out of SFO that was supposed to get me to Long Beach in plenty of time. Right. Ho hour flight turned into four is beyond my comprehension. It's not like they have bad weather in California in July.

If I had missed the ship and missed Nanny & Pops' 50th anniversary, I would have been pissed. Thank god, I made it—barely.

The whole family—all 20 of them—were waiting for me in the cruise ship terminal, letting everyone else go ahead of them in line. They've got kids to manage and Great Grandma Didi is still recuperating from her broken hip, yet they were all waiting for my sorry ass. That made me feel like shit.

I finally arrived and Alice screamed across the terminal and ran toward me as quickly as her ridiculous shoes would allow, so excited that I was finally there. She practically knocked me over. I love my baby sister to death, but sometimes she needs to turn it down a notch. I lifted her up and gave her a great big hug, because it really was great to see her.

I feel bad for not going home this summer, but the chance to work with Dr. Snow before I start med school in the fall was too good to pass up. I set Alice down and she kept hugging me and bouncing around until I kinda pushed her away and told her to save it for later. All those people waiting for me, remember?

I wanted to go say hello to Nanny and Pops first, but Mom had to grab me and give me a big hug and a kiss. Then Carlisle gave me a hug. And that pretty much started the whole family—all 20 of them—passing me along: hugs, kisses, greetings from every auntie, every uncle, every cousin. It was great to see everyone, but jeez!

My favorite greeting was from Jasper, who laid his slobbery little mouth on my cheek. God, he's great. I hadn't seen him since Christmas and that's like, half of his lifetime ago. So, my man Jazz and I worked the rest of the line together. He gives awesome high fives.

I ended up talking to Great Grandma Didi as our group finally moved into line. She was joking about how she'd wanted to bring her physical therapist, who's like, my age and apparently "quite a looker," along on the cruise when some girl a couple of rows over in the line shouts out that her friend is in dire need of a man and her goal in life is to find her one. I guess Alice isn't the only one with volume control issues.

Said friend had her face buried in her hands and was trying to hide behind her long brown hair, so I couldn't see her, but Pops and Didi started in on me, urging me to go meet her since I apparently won't have much time once school starts. WTF? It's bad enough that Mom plays matchmaker every time I'm home. And now the grandparents are trying to hook me up, too?

I saw the brown-haired girl later, during the emergency drill. She's… gorgeous—big, brown eyes; fair skin; wavy hair; and she looked at people like she was studying them, trying to figure out what made them tick. Hmm. I wonder what she'd think of me and all these crazy Cullens?

She and her two friends were wearing shirts from Cal, so I wonder if she's from the Bay Area? That would be nice! Yeah—getting a little ahead of myself, there. Anyway, Pops may be on to something about this girl. She's really pretty…

She must have felt me watching her, because she looked up, right into my eyes for a split second before Emmett pulled my attention away, boasting about how he was going to school me in some new video game. I had to teach him a thing or two about respecting his elders. Little twerp can't go talking that trash about me! He wouldn't shut up about it, though, even later, on the ship when Alec and I trampled him and Alice at ping pong. So, I picked him up and threw him in the pool. That shut him up for the rest of the day.

Our family took up the whole row tables along one wall in the dining room. The food was amazing. I dared Emmett to get the frog legs, which he kept holding up to Alice, squicking her out.

After dinner, I spent the evening catching up with Mom and Carlisle and Uncle Garrett and Aunt Kate in a lobby area where a half-decent jazz duo was playing. God, I've missed them.

It's going to be so weird not going home to Chicago with them after this trip. I guess "home" for me now is my little apartment here in California. I wonder if I've already spent my last summer at home with my family?

**~ ~ \****-0-0-0-****/ ~ ~**

I heard the telltale creak in the hallway just outside the door to the guest bathroom. That creak had gotten me into a lot of trouble the summer I was 17. Dad had a business trip to Europe and Mom tagged along, but I couldn't go—mandatory practice for the swim team. So, I stayed here with them for two weeks, two excruciatingly long, quiet weeks.

When I got an alert about a keg party at the meadow, I jumped at the chance. I told them that Bree and I were going to the movies. I tried to leave the party at 11:00, but our DD had disappeared. We found her 45 minutes later, making out with a football player in the woods. When I finally got home, all I wanted to do was brush my teeth and drop into bed, but—CREEEEEAK—busted!

The look of disappointment in her eyes just about killed me. The story he told about one of his patients—a boy he'd kept healthy since he was a newborn baby who'd died of alcohol poisoning the night before he was supposed to leave for Harvard—made me wish I was dead. They were masters of guilt. They loved me so much and I'd let them down.

Anyway, I knew that creak well. It meant Mom was approaching.

I slammed the journal shut, not wanting to get caught reading on the job when we had so much to do.

* * *

**A/N**

**For those who don't know: Cal is the nickname for the University of California, Berkeley. It's across the bay from San Francisco.**

**Ever have something that triggers an emotional response, like the toy box did for Marie? **

**Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Thanks,  
Jen**


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